


Whipped

by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman



Series: He Tastes Like You, Only Sweeter [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Body Worship, Erogenous Zone Stimulation, Food Kink, Harry is 27, M/M, Niall is 19, Nipple Play, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Whipped Cream, but I can't do the W part, it was supposed to be PWP, there's a reason though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5058256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman/pseuds/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He goes to pull back, but Niall’s arms are wound tight around his neck, so their lips still brush when Harry murmurs, “Lay down.”</p><p>“Why?” Niall asks, looking up into Harry’s eyes and licking absently over his swollen, pink lips. </p><p>“Because-” Harry hums, laying Niall gently down on his back. “I need something to eat off of.”</p><p>“Is that okay?” Harry asks.</p><p>“Yeah.” Niall says with a jerky nod. “Yeah, that sounds good.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>AKA 'gourmet chef Harry making extravagant desserts and feeding them to his boyfriend Niall before he has his own dessert (aka Niall covered in whipped cream)'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipped

**Author's Note:**

> This was never supposed to happen. Someone else was supposed to take this and write it properly. Instead, I did it.
> 
> It's based on this post: http://narryauideas.tumblr.com/post/130355184625/leprechauncupcakes-irishbumcraic-gourmet  
> (I still don't know how to put links in the notes. I hate myself for it.)

“You’re early.” Harry hums, pleasantly surprised to find Niall on his doorstep. He’s fidgeting nervously, a dark blush painted high on his cheeks. It stands out even more on his neck, where it disappears into the stark white button-up that Niall has done up to his Adam’s apple. He looks positively delectable. Even more so than anything that Harry’s ever cooked in his Michelin starred restaurant.

“I- I, um- I- I brought this.” Niall stammers, pushing a bottle of wine into Harry’s hands. It almost hits him in the stomach, since Niall’s eyes are firmly locked on the ground, but Harry’s reflexes are as sharp as his Deba knife after years spent in kitchens with things flying all over the place. He has plenty of cuts and burns on his hands and arms that show the punishment he took to get to this point.

“No need to be nervous, Love.” Harry purrs in Niall’s ear, placing a hand on the boy’s lower back and guiding him in. “It’s just me.”

“I know.” Niall breathes out, his shoulders losing some of the tension that’s making him look like a coiled spring while he toes off his boots. “Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry either.” Harry says gently, leading Niall towards the kitchen. He’s going to have to talk and cook at the same time, because his risotto is very temperamental, and everything has to be absolutely perfect tonight. Because tonight is _the_ night.

It’s the night that Harry finally gets to have Niall alone to himself without school, or the restaurant, or Niall’s bloody parents all getting in the way of everything. Niall’s final exams are done, Harry has taken the night off with a standing order to his staff not to call him unless the restaurant literally burns to the ground or somebody dies, and Niall’s parents are on a private island in the Caribbean for the next week. Yes, tonight is the first night that they’ll have had in the three months that they’ve been trying to see each other that absolutely nothing can interrupt.

Of course, they could probably find time easier to come by if they told people that they were dating, but that presents its own set of challenges. Because Harry Styles is a well-respected, Michelin star awarded chef, who runs his own restaurant called ‘Style’. He’s also twenty-seven, which makes him eight years older than the boy walking next to him. That, in and of itself, still wouldn’t pose that much of a problem, since he’s legal, if Niall wasn’t Niall Horan, youngest son of millionaire, Minister of the House of Commons, and frequent patron of Style, Robert Horan.

Robert had brought Harry in to cater a gala in his home three months ago, and that was the first time that Harry met Niall. The boy, just barely nineteen at the time, had hung around the doorways of the kitchen in an attempt to discreetly watch Harry cook. Harry had grown annoyed with Niall’s not-so-subtle hovering after an hour or so, and told him that if he was going to watch, he might as well do it up close.

Niall had been sheepish at first, keeping his mouth clamped shut as he observed Harry’s skills while sitting at the counter. Eventually he’d started to ask questions though, just little things about why Harry was cutting things a certain way, or why he wasn’t measuring certain substances, until he had finally grown comfortable enough to talk more openly. And then he didn’t shut up for the rest of the night, which Harry found both distracting and endearing.

He’d left that night after crowding Niall up against the counter, building up anticipation as he leaned in, and pecking him on the cheek at the same time as he slipped a scrap of paper with his number on it into the boy’s pocket. Niall had texted Harry before he’d even gotten home.

Since then, there have been numerous failed attempts at dates. There were trips to the cinema that were cut short by Harry being called in for an important patron, and last-minute cancellations due to Niall’s schoolwork, and one time, a horribly awkward dinner where Niall had ducked under the table after seeing his parents walk into the restaurant. Harry had made small-talk with them while Niall made a torturously slow escape, leaving the older man alone with reservations for two to a world class restaurant.

Tonight is going to fix all of that though. Tonight, Harry and Niall get to really know each other for more than twenty minutes at a time spent face to face. Because Harry really likes Niall, likes his exuberance and passion and spirit of adventure. He likes that Niall is a boy from an elegant family, but curses like a sailor. He likes that Niall always has a laugh on the tip of his tongue. He likes that Niall is quietly ambitious and loudly carefree. He likes Niall enough to stick around through three months of failed dates, but he doesn’t really know Niall yet. Not as well as he’d like to anyway.

“Oh my god, it smells fucking amazing in here.” Niall groans when they reach the kitchen. “Fucking hell, Harry. You didn’t have to go all bloody gourmet on your night off. I’d have been fine with something simple so that you could relax.”

“One, I love cooking. It is how I relax.” Harry chuckles. “And two, the meal I made isn’t particularly complex. Just osso buco, risotto alla Millanese, and a mixed green salad with my own secret vinaigrette.”

“Oh, is that all?” Niall scoffs. “Sounds pretty gourmet to me, you pretentious twat.”

It had taken Harry nearly a week to realize that insults were actually terms of affection from Niall. That was a very confusing week.

“It’s my comfort food.” Harry hums. “I trained in northern-Italy, so, to me, this is all like shepherd’s pie or roast beef and mash. It’s very simple compared to the recipes I serve in my restaurant. Simple doesn’t mean less delicious in this case though. It just means less complicated.”

“As long as you didn’t go out of your way.” Niall says quietly.

“Nothing would be out of my way tonight.” Harry tells him softly. “Hop up on the counter for me, yeah?”

“Why?” Niall asks, even as he does it.

“I need you to taste this and tell me if you think it needs anything.” Harry explains, dipping a fork into the risotto and holding it out for Niall to test.

Niall takes the bite eagerly, lips closing around the end of the fork less than a half of a second after Harry has finished talking. They haven’t actually gotten to have a meal together yet, but one thing that Harry has learned about Niall, through numerous conversations and staring at menus, is that he’s a foodie. He’s willing to try just about anything, and he likes almost all of it. Harry really likes that about him.

“Oh my fucking god.” Niall moans. “Fuck, Harry- It- It’s bloody amazing.”

“But does it need anything?” Harry asks, taking a bite for himself. There’s something just barely off about it, but Harry is too unfocused to tell what it is. Niall is just so fucking gorgeous, and it’s more than a bit distracting.

“A pinch more of the pepper.” Niall tells him. “Did you cook the saffron in the broth ahead of time?”

“I did.” Harry confirms. “How did you know that?”

“It’s very prominent.” Niall says sheepishly. “I read that the best way to extract flavor from saffron is to soak it in hot liquid for just a little bit, and then use that in your dish.”

“Have you been studying up on cooking?” Harry asks curiously.

“Yeah.” Niall admits shyly.

“Where do you even find the time, with all of your schoolwork?” Harry questions, adding in the extra pepper that Niall had pinpointed like a professional.

“I, uh- I’ve been thinking about cooking a lot lately.” Niall mumbles shyly. “Like- As a career.”

“Oh have you now?” Harry muses. “And may I ask what brought that on?”

“It’s like art.” Niall says quietly. “But it’s art that you consume. You make it a part of yourself. And every time you make something, it turns out just a little bit different. There’s room for experimentation and growth. Two people can make the same thing, but it can be two completely different experiences eating it. I never realized just how beautiful food really is until I saw you cook.”

“It should not be turning me on this much to hear you talk about food like that.” Harry chuckles.

“Stop being cheeky and focus on the risotto.” Niall scoffs. His tone makes him sound incredulous, but the blush that flares up on his cheeks and disappears all the way down into his collar indicates more towards him being flustered.

“I can do both.” Harry grins.

“Later.” Niall says, a bit more confident than he probably feels, if the way that his thumbnail is fitted between his teeth is anything to go by. “I’ll tell you all my thoughts on food.”

“Maybe.” Harry says with a huffed out laugh. “Not sure I could resist you if you did that.”

“You don’t have to resist me tonight. There’s no reason that we can’t go at it all night and into the morning.” Niall whispers in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine that makes him nearly launch the pan of risotto into the air.

“Christ.” Harry groans, closing his eyes and pushing all thoughts of that sort of thing out of his head. He’s going to burn the risotto and the osso buco if Niall keeps that up. “Don’t say things like that while I’m cooking. The first time I cook just for you shouldn’t end up with everything getting burned just because you got my dick too hard to concentrate.”

“You started it.” Niall smirks.

“Fair point.” Harry snorts. “I’m calling for a truce throughout the rest of the cooking period.”

“You make it sound like we’re at war.” Niall chuckles. “I thought it was the opposite.”

“Another fair point.” Harry concedes. “We’ll call it an agreement then. No cheekiness from either of us until dinner has at least been plated.”

“I’m not sure that I should agree.” Niall grins. “It’s fun seeing you be the one to get all flustered for once.”

“Listen here, you-” Harry laughs, wagging a finger at Niall’s cute little nose. “I am trying very hard here to impress you. Don’t go ruining the one thing that I can do to accomplish that.”

“You don’t need to impress me, Harry.” Niall murmurs, his lips grazing over the shell of Harry’s ear. “You’ve already got me here.”

“Getting you up here was the easy part.” Harry muses. “Getting you to stay is the tricky part. Burning dinner when I’m a professional chef probably won’t get that to happen.”

“Oh my god.” Niall giggles. “You’re actually nervous.”

“I am not.” Harry scoffs.

“Yes you are.” Niall beams, poking at Harry’s cheek. “You’re nervous.”

“Okay, fine. I’m a little nervous.” Harry admits. “But I’m always nervous about a first date. Especially when it’s like- the fifteenth first date.”

“Then maybe you should stop thinking of it as a first date.” Niall says, brushing stray lock of hair out of Harry’s eyes. “After all, the farthest I’d go on a first date is a kiss goodnight. I’m no slut, Mr. Styles.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” Harry groans. “That’s getting well past cheeky.”

“I don’t know what you mean-” Niall says breathily, trailing his fingers down Harry’s jawline. “Mr. Styles.”

“Good god.” Harry grunts, grabbing the bottle of Gavi that he used for the osso buco and taking a swig directly from it. “Dinner will be ready in two minutes. Can’t you hold off until then?”

“But we’ve been holding off for so long already.” Niall says with a pout.

“Which means that two minutes won’t make much of a difference, now will it?” Harry chuckles.

“I suppose not.” Niall huffs, pout still fixed firmly in place. Harry chuckles and presses his lips to Niall’s cheek as a silent ‘thank you’, which makes that slip away into a shy smile instead.

“How were your exams?” Harry asks, giving the risotto another taste and finding it perfectly balanced. Niall worked it out brilliantly when he called for more pepper.

“Stressful.” Niall groans. “Especially when I don’t care about my classes at all.”

“I thought that you liked your classes.” Harry says curiously.

“I did.” Niall shrugs. “But ever since I started thinking about cooking, they don’t interest me anymore.”

“I see.” Harry hums. “And have you talked to anyone about this?”

“Greg told me that I was being an idiot.” Niall mumbles. “He said that Horans don’t go in for common jobs. Horans don’t take orders.”

“And what do you think about that?” Harry asks.

“I think I’ve never been much of a Horan.” Niall shrugs. “I was always the black sheep of the family. I don’t want to go into law or politics or business.”

“I don’t want to discourage you-” Harry says gently, opening up the Dutch-oven and plating up the osso buco and veggies after cutting off the twine keeping the meat secured to the bone. “But are you sure that the sudden interest in cooking isn’t just because you’re dating a chef?”

“It’s opened my eyes a bit more to some things that I hadn’t really considered before.” Niall admits. “But I’ve always wanted to do something creative. I never wanted to just be another Horan in a suit, acting like my surname means that I matter more than anyone else. That’s not me.”

“No, I don’t suppose that it is.” Harry smiles, scooping the risotto onto the plates and garnishing the food with his gremolata. “Ready for dinner?”

“So fucking ready.” Niall grins, hopping off of the counter. “I can’t wait to finally try your food.”

“You’ve had my cooking before.” Harry points out. “At the gala.”

“That was you getting out food for eighty people.” Niall counters, trailing after Harry into the dining room. “This has gotten much more individual attention.”

“Are you saying that my food wasn’t up to snuff at the gala?” Harry asks incredulously, putting down the plates with the rest of the setting before doubling back to the kitchen.

“It was delicious.” Niall chuckles. “I’m not saying that you sacrificed quality for quantity. I’m just saying that I doubt that all of it got the amount of care that you’ve put into this meal.”

“Well of course not.” Harry shrugs, grabbing the bottle of wine that Niall brought, and setting the timer on the oven to start heating desert in a little bit. “Like I said, I’m trying to impress you here.”

He hands off the wine and two glasses to Niall and asks, “Can you take these while I get the salad?”

“Is this going to be a good pairing with the osso buco?” Niall asks.

“Normally I’d pair it with a nebbiolo, but a pinot noir works well too, yes.” Harry nods. He grabs the salad and the vinaigrette out of the fridge, and then follows behind Niall, trying desperately not to stare at the way Niall’s hips swish teasingly from side to side with each step. He knows that the blond is doing it on purpose, has seen Niall walking away enough times to know how his body normally moves, and Harry won’t give Niall the satisfaction of literally drooling over it like his mind is doing.

He quickly tosses the salad with the vinaigrette, and then sets a portion of that on each of their plates while Niall pours the wine. The plates aren’t quite up to snuff aesthetically for what he’d put out in his restaurant, too crowded and lacking much height or flair, but he still thinks that he’s done a decent enough job to not completely embarrass himself. Hopefully.

He pulls Niall’s chair out for him, and then drops a kiss on the blond’s cheek when he giggles, before taking his own seat. He’s about to tell Niall to dig in while he sets his napkin on his lap, but the moan that Niall lets out tells him that that would be redundant. He looks up, and finds Niall shoveling a second bite into his mouth.

“Slow down.” Harry laughs. “You’re going to choke.”

“It’s so fucking good.” Niall groans after swallowing his mouthful. “Jesus, Harry- This is amazing.”

“Thank you.” Harry says with a shy smile. “It’s better if you savor it though. The flavors are a bit slow to reveal themselves. I specialize in nuance and subtlety.”

“In everything, or just your food?” Niall asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just my food.” Harry smirks. “I prefer a more direct tactic when it comes to the rest of my life.”

“Is that so?” Niall asks with a shy smile.

“How do you think I got to own my own world-class restaurant in my twenties?” Harry hums. “When I want something, I go for it with everything I have. Even if it takes a long time to make it mine.”

“And what happens afterwards?” Niall asks.

“I keep ahold of it for as long as I’m allowed.” Harry tells him.

“So it’s not about the thrill of the chase for you?” Niall questions.

“Of course not.” Harry chuckles. “Why would I only be interested in the beginning of something? If that were the case, then I’d just hire on as an executive chef at each new, trendy restaurant in London, rather than owning my own place. The thrill isn’t in the chase. It’s in the aftermath. It’s in fitting that missing puzzle-piece into my life.”

“Good.” Niall says softly, taking another bite of his dinner.

“Do you think that I’m only interested in sex with you, Niall?” Harry asks bluntly.

“The thought had crossed my mind once or twice.” Niall admits shyly. “It’s what my flatmate thinks. You know, because of the age difference.”

“Does our age difference bother you?” Harry asks. “I don’t want to pursue anything if it makes you uncomfortable, Niall.”

“It doesn’t.” Niall says, shaking his head. “I’m not interested in guys my age. They don’t care about much other than a good time. That’s not really my scene.”

“Mine either.” Harry grins. “I’m all in for a good time - I guarantee it actually – but, for me, that needs to be a part of something more.”

“Then I think we’re very much on the same page.” Niall smiles. “Now, tell me more about this guarantee of yours.”

 

“Where’s mine?” Niall asks with a pout when Harry sits down with just one plate of molten lava cake in front of himself, along with a food whipper of whipped cream.

“Right here.” Harry smirks, creating a swirl of whipped cream on the top of the cake. “Better come get it. It’s much better when it’s warm.”

“I’m confused. Are we sharing?” Niall questions. “Because that’s definitely not big enough for two people.”

“Nope. It’s just for you.” Harry tells him.

“You’re not having any?” Niall asks, reaching forward across the table, only to whine when Harry pulls it towards himself. “Why won’t you give it to me?”

“I’m not having any of this, no.” Harry chuckles. “And I’m keeping it over here so that you’ll come over here to get it.”

“Just for reference-” Niall huffs, standing up and walking around the table before stopping in front of Harry. “This is not the kind of teasing that I enjoy.”

“’M not teasing.” Harry hums, grabbing Niall by the waist and hauling him into his lap despite the blond’s squawk of surprise. “Not yet, anyways. Just wanted to feed you.”

“Okay, now the age thing is a little creepy.” Niall mutters. “I’m not a kid, Harry. I can feed myself.”

“I’m well aware.” Harry snorts. “And this isn’t about your age. I just enjoy doing this. Trust me, it’s better than it sounds if you can get past being embarrassed.”

“Guess that depends on the quality of the cake.” Niall says, rolling his eyes. “It had better be damn-”

Harry cuts him off with a spoonful of the cake, smirking when Niall moans around the spoon and his eyes roll back in his head. “Fucking hell, that is good.” Niall sighs dreamily once he swallows.

“Have I ever told you that I used to be a baker?” Harry muses. “It’s what got me into cooking in the first place. Even though I tend to focus on more intricate dishes, I always love coming back to baking.”

“Shut up and feed me another bite.” Niall grumbles.

“Of course.” Harry grins, cutting off another chunk with the spoon and holding it up for Niall to take a bite. As soon as Niall’s lips close around the spoon, Harry’s hand slips under the hem of Niall’s shirt to stroke along the bottom of his spine, and the blond gives a very satisfying shiver in response.

“Now I see why you wanted to do this.” Niall hums, licking at a string of melted chocolate dangling from the tip of the spoon.

“You know, this is a very messy desert.” Harry smirks. “And you’ll never get chocolate out of that shirt if any were to drip onto it.”

“Should probably do something about that then, yeah?” Niall asks.

“Probably.” Harry nods. “It looks expensive, and I wouldn’t want it to get ruined.”

“Oh, of course.” Niall snorts, standing back up off of Harry’s lap. He makes an exaggerated show of things without even having to be encouraged, swaying his hips from side to side to match the rhythm of a tune that he alone can hear. It’s nothing too obscenely erotic, doesn’t look like he’s mimicking riding dick or anything, but it’s more than enough, when combined with the way he locks eyes with Harry while undoing the buttons of his shirt and revealing his smooth chest and stomach, to have the older man straining against the denim prison of his jeans. He slips the fabric off of his left shoulder, and then the right, letting the shirt flutter to the ground behind him as he straddles back over Harry’s lap and says, “Much better.”

“Much better.” Harry echoes, taking another portion cake onto the spoon and slipping it between Niall’s lips. Niall moans again, this time much louder than before, and Harry can’t help himself when he latches onto Niall’s Adam’s apple with his mouth. He doesn’t bite or suck, knows better than to leave a mark there, but instead focuses on the tightening and flexing of Niall’s throat as he swallows Harry’s creation.

He works his way down Niall’s neck, licking and nipping to taste him while he takes another bite. Harry’s tongue dips along the shallow, curving slope above Niall’s collarbone, and he finally sinks his teeth into the perfect, porcelain skin when he reaches the shoulder. Niall gasps sharply, carving impermanent canyons into Harry’s biceps with his fingers, and rutting down hard against him.

“Christ, Harry.” Niall whimpers, moving a hand up to tangle in the older man’s hair. Harry moves down further, licking over the tight bud of Niall’s nipple just as he feeds the blond another mouthful of the moist cake. At the same time, he runs the fingers of his free hand in a feather-light touch down the length of Niall’s spine until he reaches the base and digs his fingernails in. “Oh, fuck!”

“How’s the cake?” Harry asks, letting the warmth of his breath ghost over Niall’s nipple.

“Fucking amazing.” Niall grunts, rocking his hips. “But I think we should move to the bedroom now.”

“Now, now, Love.” Harry tuts playfully. “You’ve only got two bites left, and I worked very hard on this.”

“Then I guess I should be good and finish it.” Niall hums, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s wrist and guiding it back down towards the cake while Harry mouths his way across the blond’s chest towards the other, neglected nub.

“I’d appreciate that.” Harry chuckles, teasing his fingers back up along the arch of Niall’s spinal column. “Still embarrassed?”

“No.” Niall mumbles around the spoon. “Definitely not still embarrassed.”

“Good.” Harry smirks, pulling back to lock eyes with Niall while he feeds him the last bite. He can tell that Niall isn’t used to this, isn’t accustomed to the intensity of the eye contact, but he doesn’t look away. Neither does Niall. However unused to this he may be, Niall keeps up the contact as strong as Harry does, just with an added dusting of pink on his cheeks and a little bit of chocolate sauce staining his lips while he pulls the spoon out from between them, completely clean.

“Now-” he says lowly, a smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his lips. “Bedroom?”

“Mm, don’t be greedy, Love.” Harry grins, dropping the fork on the plate and pushing it all to the side. He grips Niall by the hips, and stands up to place the blond on top of the table. “You’ve had your dessert. Now it’s time for me to have mine.”

“You’re going to make me wait for sex so that you can eat?” Niall scoffs incredulously. “Then why didn’t you just-”

“What makes you think the two are mutually exclusive?” Harry asks, cutting Niall off at the pass before pressing forward and crushing their lips together. Niall tastes sinfully delicious, and it has nothing to do with the dark chocolate coating the younger lad’s tongue and teeth. That doesn’t stop Harry from licking it away, but it’s less about the chocolate, and more about getting to the pure taste of _NiallNiallNiall_ underneath. He goes to pull back, but Niall’s arms are wound tight around his neck, so their lips still brush when Harry murmurs, “Lay down.”

“Why?” Niall asks, looking up into Harry’s eyes and licking absently over his swollen, pink lips.

“Because-” Harry hums, laying Niall gently down on his back. “I need something to eat off of.”

“Oh.” Niall breathes out, the rosy blush from his cheeks painting beautiful fingers down his chest that collide and tint his entire torso a brilliant shade of pink.

“Is that okay?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Niall says with a jerky nod. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Mind taking the rest of your kit off for me then?” Harry asks, reaching over and moving the plate and fork to one of the chairs that remained unoccupied through dinner. Normally he’d just shove it off and buy a new plate at some point in the future, but he was trying to impress Niall, so he’d used the nice flatware that his mum had bought him as a present when he’d been awarded his Michelin star.

By the time he looks back up, Niall’s socks are gone, and his jeans and pants are trapped around his ankles while he’s struggling to get them off. He’s so eager, and Harry loves it. “You could bloody well help, you know.” Niall huffs when he looks up and sees Harry staring at him. “Instead of standing around smiling like an arsehole.”

“I could.” Harry nods. “But I wouldn’t want you to believe that I think you’re a child who’s incapable of doing it himself.”

“Ugh, you’re such a smug dick.” Niall grumbles, slipping one of his ankles free of the constricting fabric, and then shucking the other side off by turning it inside out. “Why do I like you again?”

“Let me show you.” Harry grins, grabbing the food whipper and pushing Niall back down against the table to take his place between the blond’s legs. Niall opens his mouth to say something, but Harry lowers the nozzle over Niall’s left nipple and pulls the trigger. Niall gasps and arches off of the table with a strangled cry when Harry licks it clean.

“Fucking hell!” Niall moans, fisting his fingers into Harry’s hair and tugging. “Warn a bloke.”

“What did you think that I meant when I said that ‘I need something to eat off of’?” Harry asks with a chuckle, leaning up to capture Niall’s lips in a slow kiss.

“I don’t know- Fuck. Thought you were going to blow me or something.” Niall slurs out against Harry’s lips. “Maybe eat me out if I was lucky.”

“All in due time, Love.” Harry murmurs hotly against Niall’s jaw. “But, one of the advantages of me being the age that I am, is that I’ve learned a lot more about the erogenous zones of the human body beyond just your cock and cute little arse. Are you good with me showing you a few?”

“Fuck yes.” Niall grunts, releasing his grip on Harry’s hair.

“Then I want you to stretch your arms back behind your head, palms up, and spread your legs for me.” Harry tells him, smirking when Niall immediately complies. The blond’s legs open wide, his feet catching on the edge of the table at the same time that his wrists smack against the rosewood. He winces, but doesn’t say anything, so Harry takes that as a go-ahead.

Harry circles around the table, deciding to start with Niall’s upper body first. “It’s going to be cold.” he admits.

“I can handle a bit of cold.” Niall murmurs.

“Just warning you, Love.” Harry smiles. He leans forward, spraying a line of whipped cream up the center of Niall’s chest. It earns him a delicious little gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the ones that Niall lets out when Harry coats his nipples. “These next ones are probably going to feel a bit weird, but I’m asking you to trust me.”

“I do.” Niall says softly, giving a nod. Harry moves the food whipper up, and sprays a dollop into the dip of Niall’s armpit, and, as expected, Niall shrieks, “Holy shit! That feels weird!”

“I told you.” Harry laughs. “It’ll be better once I get started. I promise.”

“You’d better be right.” Niall huffs.

Harry doesn’t bother telling him that he is. He’ll let Niall discover that little pleasure in a little bit. He moves to Niall’s collarbones, leaving a trail of whipped cream over them and onto his neck. Last, but not least, Harry puts a dab on the center of Niall’s wrists, and sets the canister to the side.

Next, he removes his shirt, relishing in the cloudy look in Niall’s eyes as Harry reveals his chest and torso, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Like what you see?” Harry asks teasingly.

“Fuck- Can you just get going already?” Niall groans, his fingers clenching and unclenching around nothing as he tries to keep the rest of his body still.

“Ask nicely, Love.” Harry says with a grin.

“Harry- Fuck! Please!” Niall whines, his eyes wide and pleading from where he’s staring up at Harry.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Harry smirks, kneeling down next to where Niall’s hands are sticking out over the lip of the table. He presses the tips of his fingers against Niall’s, and pulls them down to open up the blond’s hands. Niall lets out a curious sound, a little grunt questioning what’s happening since he can’t see anymore, but Harry doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he leans in and just barely touches the tip of his tongue to the center of Niall’s palm, and flicks it around in a quick circle that earns him a pretty little gasp. He can hear the table jostle from where Niall shivers, but he pays it no mind. He knows for a fact that the table is strong enough to bear the weight of two full grown adults doing a lot more than just shivering on top of it, so he’s not worried.

“Oh my god!” Niall keens, splaying his fingers wide. “How can that- It- Oh my god!”

Harry presses his lips against the spot that he’s just marked, and then moves on to the other hand to repeat the process. He drags his tongue slower this time, drawing out the letters of his name with the tip of his tongue in an invisible brand that has Niall choking on moans. His fingernails scratch bluntly underneath Harry’s chin, trying to coax him up higher, but the older man won’t go until he’s good and ready. Only once Niall whimpers out a broken ‘Harry, please!’ does Harry move on to his wrists.

The taste of the cream is delicate, just barely sweet when Harry laps it up with the sweat from Niall’s palms still on his tongue. It mixes beautifully, igniting a craving that Harry is positive that he’ll never get enough of. Of course, whether the craving is for the taste, or the way that Niall moans and writhes, is up for debate. Harry decides that it’s probably the entire thing, the combined package of the way that Niall tastes and sounds and looks and smells and feels under Harry’s lips and tongue.

He moves to the other wrist, biting lightly at the thin skin once he’s licked it clean, and Niall lets out a throaty gasp of, “God- Fuck!”

Harry trails sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up the length of Niall’s arm. Niall takes a sharp breath when Harry’s tongue runs through the whipped cream. There’s the salty, tangy taste of sweat under the cream, and it makes Harry run his tongue over the skin until every last bit is sitting on his tongue, and Niall is practically sobbing his name.

“Has anyone ever touched you there, Love?” Harry asks.

“No.” Niall breathes out.

“Do you like it?” Harry asks next, moving around to the other side. “Do you want me to do it here too?”

“Yes!” Niall chokes out desperately. “Yes! Please, Harry! Just touch me!”

“Calm down, Love.” Harry tuts. “I’ll make you feel good.”

He presses his tongue flat against the skin, just below the patch of hair that Niall has growing there, and sweeps it up through the dollop of white. Niall lets out a high whine, so Harry continues his assault on the tender skin, licking and sucking and biting until Niall digs his fingernails into Harry’s scalp and slurs out, “Harry, I’m going to need you to move on before I bust.”

“Just give me a mo, Love.” Harry hums, standing up from the ground. He undoes the clasp on his belt, and pushes his jeans down until he can step out of them. His pants quickly follow, and then he’s climbing up onto the table and straddling over Niall’s hips, smugly satisfied when he feels Niall’s leaking cock rut up automatically against his arse for a little relief. “Let’s get to the rest then, yeah?”

“Please.” Niall whimpers, digging his fingers into Harry’s thighs.

Harry leans in then, deciding that Niall has had enough teasing for now. He licks and slurps at the line of whipped cream leading up Niall’s chest, pressing his body flush against the blond’s to keep him trapped to the table when he tries to arc off of it. He growls and bites a bit harder than he has been when he feels Niall’s hand wrap around his cock, and says, “Not yet.”

“Fuck- Harry- I just want to touch you too.” Niall whines.

“Not yet.” Harry repeats. “Because once you start touching me, then I’m not going to have the focus to sit here and worship you like you deserve. Just a few little bit longer, Love. For me?”

“Fine.” Niall huffs, though he doesn’t sound particularly upset at the prospect. He gives Harry’s cock one last tug, and then pulls his hand away. “But you’re going to let me get my hands on you later, right?”

“If that’s what you want.” Harry confirms. He leans back in, catching the rest of the trail on his tongue. Niall is making these frustrated little grunts and groans, rocking his hips up to rub his cock through the cleft of Harry’s arse, and Harry lets him have it, because he knows that Niall’s probably never been stimulated for this long without being allowed to have some release. He hopes that Niall’s not working on a hair trigger though, because not getting to play with the blond’s cock, after all of this buildup, would be a bit disappointing.

Once he’s sure that there’s nothing left on Niall’s chest, he moves to the younger lad’s left nipple and sucks the cream off before latching onto the bud and swirling his tongue around it. Niall’s hands fist themselves in the older man’s hair, and Harry lets out a pleased moan at the eagerness. “Are you always going to be this much of a tease?” Niall moans.

“I’m not teasing.” Harry mumbles, mouthing his way across Niall’s chest. “You have a beautiful body, and I want to take my time becoming acquainted with as much of it as I can.”

“You could have done that in the bed, without the whipped cream.” Niall points out. “And it would have avoided me pressing my bare arse all over your table.”

“I could have.” Harry agrees. “But I wanted to do it here, with the whipped cream, and your bare arse all over my table.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Niall says with a breathless laugh, scratching his blunted nails over Harry’s scalp when Harry licks the cream off of his other nipple. He spends more time on that one, licking and rolling and sucking and biting, leaving Niall a panting mess beneath him. His hips have stopped thrusting, and his nails are buried in Harry’s skin so hard that it’s almost painful. He must be close, but he’s stopped himself, which Harry can’t even begin to express his appreciation for.

He still tries though, leaning up and lapping over Niall’s neck, starting on the last bit of cream still adorning the blond’s body for now. He still has plans for later. Niall’s collarbones are sharp in contrast to the rest of him, standing out hard to give Harry something fun to bite down and suck on in order to leave a string of small, purpled marks like a necklace.

He pulls back once he’s finished, admiring his work with a cocky smirk. They’ve only really just started, but Niall looks completely fucked out already. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are glazed, and his hair has lost any semblance of the meticulous styling that it had had when he arrived, and his lip is swollen from where he’s been biting on it to muffle the sounds he’s been making. It’s fucking gorgeous. “Ready for more?” Harry asks smugly, grabbing the food whipper from where he set it.

“No!” Niall groans, his voice cracked and gravelly. “Harry, please! I need more!”

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing.” Harry hums. “Don’t worry. I was planning on going lower this time.”

“You’re trying to kill me!” Niall growls.

“No I’m not.” Harry laughs. “Are you saying no then?”

“I’m not.” Niall sighs. “Don’t think that’s bloody possible when you’ve already shown me so many new things. I have to see what else you know that I don’t.”

“That’s going to take a lot more than just tonight.” Harry grins.

“I know.” Niall smirks. “Get on with it before I change my mind. I feel like I’m about to explode already.”

“Please try to hold off until I finish.” Harry muses, moving his legs back until he’s settled between Niall’s spread legs. “I have plans on how I want to make you cum.”

“Oh, so I do get to get off tonight?” Niall scoffs. “I wasn’t sure, considering how long you’ve been dragging this out. I was pretty sure the sun was going to come up before I was allowed to cum.”

“Trust me, by the time the sun comes up, you won’t even be able to think of cumming again.” Harry says cockily, pressing the nozzle into Niall’s bellybutton and pulling the trigger. The blond arches off of the table, which would throw off the trail Harry leaves down his sparse happy-trail if he hadn’t been expecting it. He lifts it up to draw a line down the crease of Niall’s thigh, starting on the v of his hip and ending next to where his balls are hanging between his legs, begging for release. He repeats the process on the other side, finishing off the second phase of things by leaving a dollop right on the crown of Niall’s leaking cock.

Niall, having nothing left to grope onto, twines his fingers into his mussed hair and lets out a throaty whine, bucking up into nothing. Harry carefully moves himself forward, making sure to arch his back in a way that leaves his body too high above Niall’s to let Niall get any friction yet.

He starts at the bellybutton, sucking the whipped cream out before licking into the hole. “Oh my fucking god!” Niall gasps. “How can that feel so fucking good?”

“Some scientists think that the navel and the genitals have common tissue origins, and that means that, in some people, it can work as very intense stimulation because the connection still exists.” Harry explains.

“How did you know it would work on me?” Niall questions.

“I didn’t for sure.” Harry admits. “But I wanted to try. It’ll be good to know later.”

“Keep going.” Niall encourages breathlessly, removing one hand from his own hair to push Harry back down towards the tender flesh of his stomach.

Harry takes the instruction happily, licking and sucking and slurping greedily down the trail he’s left for himself. He’s beginning to grow just a bit impatient himself, his cock painfully hard at this point from being so neglected. So he does things a bit out of order, moving to Niall’s cock next instead of the lines on his hips. He sucks the head in all at once, earning Niall’s loudest moan yet as a reward. Precum invades the taste of the whipped cream as Harry licks over it. The salt and the sweet mix together perfectly though, creating an almost syrup-like consistency inside Harry’s mouth. It may just be his favorite flavor of all time.

Niall sobs, driving up into Harry’s throat while the brunet hollows out his cheeks around him. He lets Niall have a few good thrusts, and then pulls off to a whining protest from the younger lad. “You’re fucking cruel.” Niall grits out between clenched teeth.

“Love, don’t you trust me yet?” Harry pouts. “I’ve made it good so far, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Niall nods. “But if I don’t cum soon-”

“Soon.” Harry smiles. “I promise. Just got a little bit left, Love.”

Niall gives a tight nod, his head thumping back down onto the table as he spreads his legs just a little wider in acquiescence. Harry starts on the right, lapping down the smooth line of Niall’s thigh. Once that side is clean, he moves to the other, repeating the process with a bit more fervor because he’s not sure how much longer he can hold off.

Niall’s legs are quivering and his fingers look like they’re about to rip out chunks of his own hair by the time that Harry climbs back off of the table. Niall’s eyes go wide when he sees Harry grabber the whipper again, and he chokes out, “What now?”

“Last spot.” Harry murmurs. “Get on your hands and knees for me, Love.”

“Oh fuck yes.” Niall breathes out, flipping onto his stomach and following the order beautifully until he’s prostrated right in front of Harry’s face. “I’m clean. I promise. I made sure, just in case. Like- I wasn’t really expecting it, but I was hoping.”

“Perfect.” Harry hums, moving the nozzle close to Niall’s hole and holding down the trigger for the last time. Niall keens loudly, dropping onto his elbows so hard that he shakes the table. Harry would ask if he’s hurt, but Niall is shaking his bum back and forth pleadingly, apparently unfazed by the pain.

He doesn’t go for the whipped cream right away, instead choosing to take advantage of the position in multiple ways. He skims the tips of his fingers lightly over the perky little cheeks, taking note of how close his skin-tone is to the confection settled on it. Another often neglected part of the body is the backs of the thighs, so he trails his fingers down Niall’s in a feather-light touch that has the lad quaking almost violently while he moans into the wood of the table. It just gets louder as Harry’s fingers come back up, on the inside of his thighs this time.

He places his hands firmly underneath the spread mounds of Niall’s arse, and leans in. From the first contact between his tongue and Niall’s hole, he can tell that this is something he’s going to be doing a lot of, because Niall just makes the most perfect fucking sound. He pushes his lungs to their limits with the shuddering, bone-rattling, earth-shaking moan, and Harry doesn’t think that he could ever get enough of it.

Niall’s hips stutter, pushing back and then stopping whenever he realizes the he’s done it. Harry wraps his hands around Niall’s hips, pulling him back a bit to encourage the blond to go with his instincts. He points his tongue, pushing it through the ring of muscle when Niall rides back onto it, and loves the way Niall sobs with each eager back-thrust of his hips. He snakes one of his hands down between Niall’s legs, circling it around the younger lad’s cock, and gets the other around his own throbbing erection.

He knows it’s not going to last long once that happens, not with the way Niall is gasping shallowly every time he fucks himself back onto Harry’s tongue or forward into Harry’s fist. They’re both too worked up, too consumed by the energy surging between them, for it to be slow and sensual anymore. He doesn’t start working himself in earnest until Niall’s cock starts pulsing in his hand, signaling just how close he is to his release.

Niall confirms it a moment later, moaning out, “Harry, ‘M so close.”

Harry squeezes just a bit tighter around Niall, his other hand flying over his own cock to chase his release. The combination of Niall’s world-breaking sob and the clench of the blond around his tongue has Harry cumming so hard onto the table that galaxies are born behind his eyelids. The entire universe stops for a moment, and Harry floats on a wave of pleasure while his body spasms though the last crippling aftershocks of his orgasm.

Niall and he collapse in opposite directions, the younger lad falling forward against the table, while Harry slumps back into his chair. Niall flips onto his back, deftly avoiding the messy puddle of both of their cum mixing together, and, with his chest heaving, gasps out, “Fucking hell. That was bloody brilliant.”

“Told you.” Harry hums contentedly. “And that was just the hors d’oeuvre. Let me catch my breath, and we’ll get to the main course.”

“So-” Niall starts, pushing himself up on his elbows to lock eyes with Harry. “Food really does turn you on then?”

“Fuck off.” Harry laughs. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“I knew it.” Niall smirks. “In that case, we should clean up that mess there, and then head to the bedroom. I saw a bottle of honey on the counter, and I’m dying to try some of that out on you.”

“I really like the way you think.” Harry grins.

**Author's Note:**

> The reason for the age difference is because Niall's chest is covered in a complete rug now, and I can tell you from experience, whipped cream and body hair is not a great combination. Plus it gave me something to play around with and give angst to the parts of the story I'll write later. I've got another few parts planned out for this series, and I'll write those whenever I get writer's block on my main stories.


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